Device

Life, of sorts, swelters
in the room.
A window is necessary; locked,
it let's in light. The tops of trees

communicate nature 
holding sway in a dance
of unified turbulence.
It's been frantic recently -

so much manic tree activity 
has sent her - set her
crazy the past hard weeks.
But calm came 

when she fell content 
to read friends nimbly chattering
over the wittering wind,
like nothing bad was happening 

elsewhere in the great,
or in her small world -
the machine with the names
of those she believes in.

I'll let her go, but not until
she agrees to believe 
in me - the one who provides
the means of everything.